Oneshot Do not fly under the Influence
by JinxXNeko
Summary: Raistlin discovers a forbidden levitation spell, and what happens when he literally, flies while under the influence? Problems.


What happens when a mage finds out a hidden spell? What happens when that spell is specifically designed for levitating those that are not naturally supposed to be airborne? Well, that was what questioned, and concluded, on the day that Raistlin was sent to clean out the dusty, moldy, old library, much to his annoyance.

"Why do I have to clean this, I should be the one studying back in my quarters, not cleaning some old, forgotten mess left by a dirty old-timer", the young mage growled to himself. He had a test tomorrow, and was not at all pleased with the fact that the instructors had picked him to punish for a stunt pulled by one of the lower students.

Raistlin stalked down the old, dimly lit hallway, little used since the construction of the newer, grander library in the more recent wing. However, the mage's never discarded old spell-books, or destroyed the components, unless if they were deemed too dangerous to be left. It was because of this fact, that the library had been left, never used, rarely opened, but apparently in need of a cleaning.

He sighed slowly, seeking to calm himself as he approached the door. He gazed up at its solid oak surface, searching for a symbol. Finally, he decided on the general words, and motion of the hand used for the other locked doors of the Academy. This only proved to be a frustration, apparently, the more recent uses of security didn't have any effect on the older models, especially the doors.

With narrowing eyes, Raistlin scanned the door, until he noticed the dusty doorknob. With an annoyed sigh, he grasped it and turned it, opening the creaking door. He glanced around the dark room, and shook out his robes as he entered, the dust already clinging to their scarlet fabric.

"Where do I start in this mess?", he wondered out-loud, again, and paused for a moment as he noticed that again, he was talking to himself. This was a troublesome habit.

The room didn't answer, as he hadn't expected it to. It was silent in the dark interior of the room, and smelt like musky paper, and old components. The young mage exhaled before stepping more into the room, he searched around for a source of light and found a troop of candles on one of the long tables with his sensitive fingers. After a moment, and a fire-spell, he had the candles lit, and the soft glow filled the room.

He glanced around, studying the unorganized piles of books, and stationary piled on tables, desks, and the unruly shelves. Again, Raistlin took a moment to compose himself, and his thoughts, before he walked to one of the desks. Reaching out, he picked up a towering pile of the books, startling when one fell onto the floor, falling open.

"What's this?", he asked when looking down at the open pages. They held a spell, one that at first glance, didn't seem all too different. He knelt down and picked it up, drawing it closer to his face. That was when his sharp eyes caught on the word, 'Levitation'. This was a levitation spell, a mage of his level were not yet taught these sort of spells, they were generally forbidden in the tests, at least, until they were fully instructed. This was a rich discovery.

Raistlin glanced around, before looking back to the page, reading intently. It seemed simple enough, and the temptation of using it was too great at this point. He smirked faintly, and set the book back on the desk. In an act of rebellion, he recited the words carefully.

The magical response to the incantation were almost immediate, so immediate, that the mage was caught off guard when his feet suddenly left the ground. He shot up abruptly, with no fathom of controlling the sudden magic, until he felt a solid thump of himself against the ceiling.

Raistlin shouted in surprise, and reached up to push himself from the ceiling. He sneezed from the puffing, and spreading dust, and blinked it from his eyes. He exhaled slowly and took the time to slowly release the magic. He slowly descended, landing with an uncharacteristic fall to his backside.

He was too excited by the discovery to be bothered, as he quickly got to his feet, shaking out his robes and dusting himself off. "What a discovery...this will benefit me, I will be able to travel easier.", he said while quickly gathering the dropped book in his arms, slipping it into his robes. With that, he swiftly walked from the library, leaving it in its disary behind, but too intrigued to notice.

Eight years passed by swiftly, but many things took place. Raistlin had now left the Academy, and long forgotten the day of his discovery. He had played with it for awhile, enjoying the tricks, and the benefits. It's safe to say that he was never late to his classes, but was scolded enough times to overcome that fact. Still, they weren't able to take it away from him.

However, as the time had passed, he had matured out of such futile spells, passing the Test had destroyed any pleasure he had once had with the little incantation he had learned, leaving it in the shadows of his mind.

"Hey, Raist, here's your drink", Caramon said while sliding a cracked cup across the rough wood of the table. Dark brown liquid sloshed over the sides, splashing onto the wood.

Raistlin looked up from underneath the hood of his robes. A sneer creased his golden skinned face. A gnarled hand reached out and grasped hold of the cup of ale, so to speak. The mage brought the drink to his chapped lips and swallowed the bitter drink. His eyes widened. The hourglass pupils seemed to swirl in ecstasy, and the sneer now produced a giggle. Raistlin's normally controlling eyes that bore down upon Caramon were now busy stalking the barmaids in their little outfits. Caramon was so taken with his brother's new-found happiness, that he mistook it for pleasure, instead of drunkenness. Raistlin ordered the big warrior to bring him more, and his brother obeyed, thinking that perhaps his strange metamorphosis from the Tower of High Sorcery was soon to be banished.

Raistlin's brain clouded over with dark thoughts of lust and more drink, and eventually after the seventh drink, the mage was overcome by more than just that. Complete delirium soon rocked his red robed body. At last, when Caramon went away to be introduced to the manager of the tavern, Raistlin decided to show everyone his worth. Reciting the complex incantation from his boyhood, he allowed his body to be risen from the clutches of gravity! A bubble of laughter escaped the crazed mages lips even as his white haired head came ever closer to the roof. Many stared, or threw up from the hideous sight of the golden skinned, flying mage singing an opera that many from Solamnia favored.

Caramon rushed back to where he had left his brother, the master of the tavern close behind the big man. But, what both saw was exactly what they had not prepared for. For, lay at their feet, was a mage clothed in red, a strange golden tint resonated from his skin, and his once brown hair turned to a shock white. Surrounding the fallen, many bottles of liquor were tossed, all smelling foully. Vomit littered the floor, and now there was a red stain splotched with yellow on the roof of the tavern.

Till this day, only some of the men know what occurred at that bar that night. And many tried to forget it. However, all who had seen the young man spoke but one vow before the chorus of the Solamnic Knights' opera rang out: I will never drink this much again.


End file.
